Vol.  I. 


l>r.  (JaiiK's  Phillips. 

Tlu'i't'  arc  many  among  the  pupils  uf  tlic 
late  Dr.  PliillipHtu  be  fouiul  in  every  Soutli- 
crn  and  Western  State,  wlio  will  feel  a  deep 
interest  in  liis  personal  history.  I  know, 
therefore,  Ih at  I  will  render  an  aece])table 
siTvice  to  a  considerable  portion  of  your 
readers'by  sketching  while  they  are  fresh 
in  my  memory,  some  of  the  leading  inci- 
deut!'*  of  his  life. 

Dr.  Phillips  rarely  referred,  in  eonversa- 
lioii,  to  himself,  and  few  beyond  lus  own 
iainily  are  familiar  with  the  events  of  his 
early  history.  He  was  born  at  Nevendon, 
I'.ssex  comity,  on  the  22nd  of  April,  1792, 
and  at  the  time  of  his  death,  March  14, 18(i7, 
wanted  little  more  than  a  month  of  comple- 
ting the  seventy-fifth  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  the  third  son  of  Kev.  Richard  and  Su- 
fian  ^Nleade  Phillii)s.  His  father  was  a  min- 
ister of  the  Established  Churc'i  of  England, 
and  attached  to  the  Evangelical  party  in 
that  Church,  nundjering  among  his  friends 
such  men  as  Henry  Veuve  and  John  Ber- 
ridge.  He  removed,  when  James  was  seven 
years  old,  to  tStafford-Roche,  Cornwall, 
jwhere  he  contityed  rector  of  that  parish  un- 
til his  death,  about  18;'7. 

■James  Phillips,  in  company  with  an  older 
brother,  Samuel  A.  Phillips.,  now  a  resident 
I  if  New  York  City,  came  to  America  in  the 
year  18]  ^i,  and  engaged  in  the  business  of 
teaching,  at  Harlem,  Is .  Y.,  -where  he  soon 
had  a  fi<nirishsng  school.  In  1821  he  mar 
ried  Julia  A^ermeule,  daughter  of  a  New 
.Icrsey  f:irmer  of  good  family.  Her  brother^ 
V, 

^ 


No.  4. 

lleVi  Cornelius  C.  W  rmcule,  I).  I).,  was  for 
many  years  pastor  of  the  Reformed  Dutch 
Church  in  Harlaem.    In  182(),  Dr.  Phillips 
competed  successfully  foi'  the  chair  of  ^latli- 
enuitics  and  Natural  Philosojihy  in  the  I'li- 
j    iversity  of  North  Carolina,  and   arrive<l  in 
1   Cqapel  Hill,  the  seat  of  tlie  I'ni versify,  in 
May,  182(;.    President  Caldweil  wa-  then 
I    in  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  in  (he 
full  po.sse.ssion  of  remarkal)le  physical  and 
mental  energy.    Prof.  Phillips  was  in  his 
thirty. fourth  year.    Dr.  Mitchell,  the  Sen- 
ior Professor  of  Chemistry,  and  Dr.  Hoopcj', 
Professor  of  Jllietoric  and  Logic,  were  korn 
in  the  same  year  with  Dr.  Phillips.  Pi'of 
-Andrews,  subso([nently  the  eminent  lexicng- 
rapher,  was  then  Professor  of  Ancient,  and 
j   I'rof.  Hentz  (husband  of  the  celebrated  au- 
I  thoress,  Mrs  Caroline  Lee  Hentz)  was  Pro- 
fessor of  Modern  Ijanguages.    The  Rev.  Di'. 
Hoo))er  is  now  the  oi^ly  survivor  of  that 
l)and  of  eminent  men  who,  forty  years  ago, 
constituted  the  Faculty  of  our  l^jiiversity. 
The  history  of  Dr.  Phillips'  forty  years' 
■  work  will  best  be  given  in  connection  with 
a  general  history  of  our  1  Diversity  and 
.  State,  which  will,  we  hope,  (m-c  long  be  pre- 
pared by  competent  hands.    Those  years  of 
his  life  were  years  of  close  study,  of  hai'd 
work  and  of  singular  devotion  to  the  duticis 
ihat  lay  before  him.    It  is  no  disparage- 
ment to  any  of  his  col  leagues  in  tlic  I'aculty 
to  say  that,  in  un\'ai'ying  punctuality  and 
fidelity  in  every  relation,,  and  in  the  dis- 
charge of  every  duty,  great  or  small,  nom,' 
could  compare  w  ith  him.    The  lives  of  few 
teachers,  in  this,  or  any  other  country  can 


Chapel  Hill,  N.  C,  May,  1882. 


52  ,  CONTB 

present  such  a  record. 

Dr.  Phillips  was  an  inexorable  mathema- 
tician. Had  he  ever  a  pupil  who  will  not 
bear  the  same  testimony,  with  the  addition 
that  he  never  knew  a  man  of  sterner  integ- 
rity or  more  unflinching  courage?  not  mere- 
ly physical — for  this  is  no  uncommon  trait 
— but  moral  courage  ?  He  shrank  from  no 
duty  imposed  on  him  by  his  office,  either  as 
professor  or  as  minister  in  the  Church  of 
God.  And,  while  he  never  swerved  a  hair's 
breadth  from  the  undevi  at  in  u'  line  of  recti- 
tude which  he  marked  out  for  liimself,  ei- 
their  to  conciliate  favor  or  deprecate  cen- 
sure, no  man  has  ever  secured  a  larger  share 
of  affectionate  veneration  in  the  liearts  of 
all  who  knew  him;  He  was  emphatically  a 
gentleman  of  the  old  scliool  iii  manners,  in 
religious  belief,  and  in  most  of  Ids  forms  of 
thought.  While  he  rejected  no  new  theo- 
ries simnly  because  they  were  new,  he  em- 
braced none  without  careful  examination 
and  thorough  conviction  of  their  worth. 
His  favorite  religious  reading  lay  among 
the  old  non-conformist  divines  ;  his  favorite 
authors  were  tlie  i»ld  Englisli  classics  ;  the 
book  that  was  oilenest  in  his  liand  was  the 
oldest  of  all — the  Bible.  AN'itlicnit  entering 
farther  into  the  delineation  of  his  charac- 
ter, which  will  receive  a  more  elaborate  sur- 
vey than  I  have  at  present,  time  or  disposi- 
tion to  make,  I  may  mention  that  among 
numerous  testimonials  to  the  value  and  ef- 
ficiency of  his  method  of  instruction  in  his 
own 'department  of  science,  was  a  letter  from 
Lieutenant  Maury,  while  at  the  head  of  the 
national  observatory.  He  ha<l  liad  succes- 
sively two  of  Dr.  Phillips'  pupils  {(Jeneral 
Pettigrew  and  Captain  A.  W.  Lawrence)  as 
assistants,  and  he  applied  to  secure  a  third 
as  instructor  for  his  own  children,  stating 
that  he  desired  them  to  have  the  benefit  of 
the  same  training  which  had  rendered  his 
assistants  such  ready  and  accurate  mathe- 
maticians. 

HoAv  often  has  Dr.  Phillips  in  early  life 
responded  to  his  own  father  in  his  church, 
in  the  beautiful  and  expressive  language  of 
the  English  Litany,  "From  battle  and  mur- 


TBVTIONS.  [May 

j  der,  and  from  sudden  death,  Good  Lord  de- 
liver us  !  "  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
the  last  of  the  events  was,  under  some  cir- 

j  cumstances,  rather  to  be  coveted  than  dread- 
ed. "The  chamber  where  the  good  man 
meets  his  fate  is  privileged  beyond  the  com- 
mon walks  of  virtuous  life — just  on  the 
verge  of  heaven."  This  was  Dr.  Caldwell's 
case.  He  died  the  victina  of  excrutiating 
and  lingering  disease,  with  his  wife  and 
friends  to  witness  the  calmness  and  compos- 
ure, the  faith  and  triumph  of  his  closing 
hour.  His  senior  professor.  Dr.  Mitchell, 
perished  instantaneously  in  one  of  the  wild- 
est and  most  inaccessible  gorges  of  the  Al- 
leglianies,  and  reposes  on  the  loftiest  sum- 
mit of  the  continent,  east  of  the  Rocky 
^Mountains.  Who  that  knew  him  jiersonal- 
ly  would  have  desired  a  different  termina- 
tion of  his  active  existence  ?  Xot  less  start- 
ling and  remarkable  was  the  departure  of 
his  venerated  friend  and  colleague,  Dr.  Phil- 
lips.   On  the  temi^estuous  morning  of  the 

I  14th,  a  little  before  nine  o'clock,  with  his 
accustomed,  almost  constitutional  punctual- 
ity, in  despite  of  the  entreaties  of  his  young- 
est child,  he  set  out  in  the  rain  to  officiate 

-  at  morning  prayers.  He  arrived  at  the 
chapel  as  usual,  in  advanc2  of  the  ringing 
of  the  Ih'11,  and  took  his  accustomed  seat 
immediately  behind  the  reading-desk. 
What  were  his  thoughts  or  feelings  during 
that  walk,  and  as  he  sat  there  a  few  min- 
utes alone,  can  be  known  only  to  his  God. 
The  first  student  who  entered  the  chapel  af- 
ter the  bell  commenced  ringing  bowed  to 

■  him  and  spoke.  The  salutation  not  being 
returned,  he  advanced  toward  him,  and  per- 

.  ceived  him  in  the  act  of  falling  from  his 
s3at.  He  dropped  to  the  floor  in  the  pre- 
cise spot  where,  for  so  many  years,  he  had 
so  often  and  so  fervently  prayed  for  the  ris- 
ing generation  that  surrounded  him.  Dr. 
Mallett  was  almost  immediately  there,  but 
in  ten  minutes  he  had  ceased  to  breathe. 
Surrounded  by  the  whole  body  of  students, 
in  the  arms  of  one  of  them,  he  went  to  his 
eternal  rest  without  a  jiang  or  a  struggle, 
I   and  in  sad  and  solemn  procession  was  borne 


1S82.] 


(  ONTBIB  VTTO  XH. 


l)y  them  and  his  colleagues  in  the  Faculty 
to  his  residence  and  laid  down  in  his  library 
among  his  books  ;  his  manuscript  sermon 
in  preparation  for  next  Sabbath  lying  open 
on  his  table,  just  as  he  had  left  it.  There 
the  veteran  who  had  dropped  at  his  jiost 
lay  with  the  peace  of  God  uj)on  his  noble 
l)row,  having  heard  the  summons,  "  Come 
up  higher,"  and  received  the  Avord,  "  Well 
ilone.  "  He  walked  with  God  and  was  not, 
for  God  took  him. 

Had  Dr.  Phillips  been  permitted  to  choose 
the  time,  place  and  manner  of  his  depart- 
ure, I  do  not  doubt  he  would  have  chosen 
thus.  His  most  frequent  petition  in  family 
prayer  of  late  had  been,  "Let  me  be  useful 
as  long  as  I  live,  and  let  me  die  in  thy  ser- 
vice." He  had  a  dread  of  an  old  age  length- 
ened out  in  weakness  and  infirmity.  And 
his  Master  gave  his  old  servant  what  he  de- 
sired. At  his  post,  with  his  harness  on, 
Avith  his  recitation-room  key  and  "Pierce's 
Plane  and  Solid  Geometry"  in  his  hand, 
])repared  to  begin  his  day's  work  Avith  pray- 
er, the  last  sound  in  his  ears  the  familiar 
tones  of  the  college  bell,  the  last  sight  the 
students  assembling  for  Avorship,  he  passed 
away.  A  better,  braver,  nobler  man  I  have 
neA'er  knoAvn. 

He  preached  his  last  sermon  in  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  on  Sunday,  the  10th,  from 
the  text  Amos  v.  6,  and  heard  the  recita- 
tions of  the  Junior,  Sophomore  and  Fresh- 
man classes  on  the  two  succeeding  days. 
The  evening  before  his  death  I  Avalked  homo 
Avith  him  from  the  chapel  after  prayei's,  and 
saw  him  stop  to  pluck  a  flower  from  the 
campus  shrubbery  to  carry  his  little  grand- 
daughter. 

On  Saturday  morning,  March  liis  re- 
mains Avere  carried  to  the  college  chapel, 
Avhich  Avas  draped  in  black,  and  after  a 
short  and  singularly  appropriate  address  by 
Professor  Hepburn,  he  Avas  laid  aAvay  in  the 
graveyard  near  his  grandchildren  Avho  had 
preceded  him  to  heaven. — Letter  from  Hon. 
1).  L.  Strain,  LL.  T).,  to  the  North  (  'tiroU)ia 
Presbyterian,  March  27,  1867. 


.Tohanu  Wolfgaiiji'  Cioetlio. 


Several  centuries  ago  there  might  have 
been  seen  a  lonely  man  Avending  his  solitary 
Avay  doAvn  the  Alps  towards  the  plains  of 
the  Tiber.     He  had  escaped  to  tell  the 
haughty  emperor  of  Rome  that  the  barbar- 
ian Hermann  had  routed  and  slain  his  ar- 
my.   An  event  that  forboded  ill  to  Rome, 
but  glory  to  man.    The  ad\^antage  Avas  mo- 
mentarj- — only  a  stray  beam,  Avhich  Avas 
soon  lost  to  the  eager  Teutonic.  Roman 
influence  continued.    They  gave  the  peo- 
ple their  morals,  habits,  manners,  govern- 
ment and  religion.    It  cost  Luther  many  a 
bitter  i^ang  to  stem  the  tide  and  bring  to 
his  wretched  countrymen — like  Proraethius 
of  old — the  fire  of  free  thinking.    It  requir- 
I   ed  the  mighty  channel  of  the  interregnum 
for  the  established  order  of  things  to  j^ass 
through.     It  Avas  through  this  that  the 
cringing  servility  of  (iermany,  first  toRom^ 
then  to  herself,  dragged   its  slow  length 
.   along.    In  Literature,  the  state  of  affairs 
[   Avas,  if  possible,  Avorse.    Germany  AA'as  bu} 
I   a  moth  that  fluttered  about  the  glaring  light 
of  Rome — no  originality — no  taste — no  am- 
bition— Avith  a  religion  that  only  freezed  the 
fountains  of  action  and  of  life.  Timidly 
the  "stars"  rose,  twinkled  and  passed  away, 
smothered  by  the  sodded  minds  of  their 
countrymen.   Voltaire  arose — combated  the 
past  through  its  ills — trampled  to  the  dust 
the  gallant  feats  and  progress  of  man,  and 
boldly  asserted  the  reign  of  Reason.  His 
influence  Avas  felt  to  penetrate  alike  the 
royal  palac(^s  and  the  humble  huts.  Hume, 
Gibbon  and  Robertson  acknowledged  him 
right,  and  exultingly  threw  doAvn  the  gaunt- 
let to  the  ('iiristian  Avorld.    Oceali  nor  con- 
tinent staid  tlic  influence.    England  could 
point  only  to  Johnson,  who  stood  alone 
grand  in  his  firmness  but  unable  to  stay  the 
force.    In  this  hour  of  despair  the  genius 
of  (ioethe  pierced  the  darkness.  Through 
h'lm  the  world,  heaving  with  agonizing  con- 
tortions, Avrung  out  its  cry,  Avild,  passionate 
and  uncontrollable  in  his  Werther. 

Again,  he  lent  his  genius  to  Scott  that  hp 


54: 


COJS^TBIB  VTIONS. 


iiiiglit  speak  to  the  English  world  through 
his  (u)ctz  1)011  Bcrlichiiigcii.  Byron  and 
Shelley  with  borrowed  lustre  did  also  shine 
and  the  taste  of  the  world  was  purified. 

Enthusiasts  may  proclaim  ^the  genius 
who  Avith  poetic  skill  analyzes  the  throb- 
bing heart  of  man,  and  culls  therefrom  his 
niiglity  motive  poAvers  ;  but  who,  like  Goe- 
the, has  gently  curbed  and  guided  the  mind 
of  a  nation  re\-eling  in  new-born  freedom? 

Wiien  the  brilliant  light  of  Jefferson's 
dictum  flashed  across  the  waters,  growing 
ill  graiuleur  and  sublimity  by  ignited  France, 
leaping  wildly  from  spire  to  hut  throughout 
the  "Father-land" — when  but  a  step  would 
have  hurled  the  people  into  the  vortex  of 
anarchy — it  was  the  immortal  Goethe,  stand- 
ing aloof  and  above  the  edd}-,  cried  through 
the  melodious  strains  of  his  Apocalyptic 
7'aust,  "Peace,  be  still." 

_  Such  being  the  general  tenor  and  iiiflu- 
''iiceofhis  works,  we  will   exai]iiue  some- 
what into  the  life  of  the  man.    His  career 
was  a  varied  one,  and  yet  in  all  the  variety, 
hf'  stood  by  his  conservative  jirinciples.  In 
lliis  age  so  remarkable  for    })roiiigacv  of 
taste,  Goethe  stood  firmly  by  the  classic 
})ast.    In  its  literature  hi-  found  lofty  con- 
ceptions and  pure  taste;  in  its  history,  he 
found  gallant  feats  of  arms,  and  patriotic 
and  noble  statesmanship  ;  in  every  depart- 
ment of  art  or  industry  he  found  perfection 
to  ije  the  watch-wcrd.    It  was  to  excel  in 
conception,  taste,  diction  and  execution  that 
tiie  poets  wrote.    It  was  to  eclipse  the  valor 
of  the  contending  gods  that  the  Spartan 
band  stood  like  adamant  within  their  nar- 
row defile.    It  was  to  rival  the  mellow  niur- 
mui  ings  of  nature  that  the  bard  strung  his 
lyre.    Goethe  knew  and  felt  all  this.  And 
yet  with  such  a  worthy  exemplar,  his  im- 
pulsiveness drove  him  to  many  seeming  ex- 
cesses.   Poets  are  constitutionally  fond  of 
the  ladies.    Goethe  was  no  exception.  At 
an  early  age  he  heeded  the  gentle  wooings  of 
.-acred  passion  and  revelled  in  his  happy 
fortune.      Xo  chivalric  knight  was  ever 
more  devoted  in  his  attentions,  or  indulged  , 
\\\  more  romantic  cjiis  ides.  ' 


It  was  his  custom  to  prove  all  things.  To 
know  in  its  highest  sense  was  the  desire  .of 
his  mind.    He  chased  w  ith  eagerness  the 
magic  phantoms  of  the  alchemists,'  tiji-niug- 
only  to  test  some  law  of  nature,  or  tht:<; 
depth  and  tenderness  of  some  Medussa'sP« 
love.    No  object  was  too  humble  to  lea 
him  a  lesson.    No  empty  brilliancy  could 
entertain  him.    From  court  pageant  and 
glittering  show    he  instinctively  turiiedr. 
This  characteristic  is  plainly  given  iti  NVil-'; 
helm  Meister.     The  hero  neglects  every,-' 
thing  to    enjoy  some  literary  treat.  He 
worships  the  grand  conceptions  in  Hamlet.  ' 

Goethe  was  educated  for  a  jiarist ;  but; 
his  untamed  spirit  could  not  plod.tlje  well-' 
worn  tract  of  Roman  lawyers.  Nature 
claimed  him  as  her  own.  To  him  she  yield- 
ed up  her  hidden  treasures,  as  she  led  him 
through  fields  rich  with  thought  that 
might  jjluck  therefrom  the  rarest  gems, 
her  he  went  with  his  cares  aiui  sorrows 
Even  in  sleep  Nature  would  come  Jis  hi,- 
ministering  angel  to  tell  of  sheaves  still  un- 
garnered.  He  was  tlie  month-piece  of 
wronged  and  abused  humanity.  Mind,  tram- 
meled with  superstition,  bigotry  and  oppres- 
sion rang  out  in  clarion  tones  through  him, 
warnings  to  the  w  avering,  terrors  to  the  dis- 
solute, and  incentives  to  those  yearning  for 
higher  and  nobler  things. 

In  that  great,  grand  moral  play,  Faust, 
we  see  the  rampart  principles  of  the  day 
personified  in  no  less  a  personage  than  the 
Devil.  It  shows  how  corruj^tiou  stalks 
abroad,  how  it  coils,  serpent-like,  about  the 
tender  tendrils  of  maiden  modesty  and  vir- 
tue, how  with  one  gigantic  swoop  it  seems 
to  clutch  the  last  bud.of  purity,  witli  cue 
foul  stroke  hurls  honesty  from  the  land. 

Again,  in  another  play,  we  see  how  ilic 
German  heart  was  made  to  bleed  beneath  ■ 
the  tyrannous  heel  of  the  haughty  despot — 
how  that  the  rights  sacred  and  dear  even  to 
the  grovelling  worm,  were  trodden  in  the 
dust — how  that  man  consequently  came  to 
violate  the  God-given  privileges  of  the 
hearth-stone,  and  friendship  -  was  onlv  ;i 
name. 


